Highland Honor. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ only to be roughly straightened up by him and pushed forward. “Merde, do you smell them or something, or are you just mad?”

      “Oh, aye, I can smell the bastards.”

      Before Gisele could question that a cry rippled through the camp. Men scrambled to arm themselves. She looked at Nigel in amazement even as he shoved her inside Guy’s tent and disappeared. The first sound of swords clashing reached her ears and yanked her free of her bemusement. She tossed her sack of kindling aside and grabbed one of Guy’s daggers, then sat down on the dirt floor facing the tent opening. If the battle came to her she was ready to meet it.

      As she sat there, tense and alert, she found herself wondering about the Scotsman, something that happened far too often now for her liking. This was not a good time to be concerned about anyone, especially a man. Such distraction could easily cost her her life. All of her attention had to be on one thing and one thing only—eluding the DeVeaux. Her heart and mind, however, did not seem to want to heed that truth. No matter how hard she tried to get the amber-eyed Scotsman out of her head, thoughts of him continually crept back in.

      Nigel Murray was an exceptionally handsome man, and many a woman would be unable to resist thinking about him. That knowledge did little to soothe Gisele’s concern and irritation. She should be better than that. She had seen the dark side of men, seen the black heart a beautiful face could hide. The Scotsman did not seem to carry that taint, but Gisele knew she could no longer trust herself to make that judgment. Although she had adamantly if futilely refused to wed DeVeau, having believed all the dark tales about the man, even she had not realized the depths of his amoral and brutal nature.

      Gisele cursed as thoughts of her dead husband brought the dark memories of her time with him rushing to the fore of her mind. It had been almost a year since she had found his mutilated body and, knowing that she would be blamed, had run for her life. They had only been married for six months, but she knew the things DeVeau had done to her would scar her for life. So, too, would what she saw as her betrayal by her family. They had done nothing to help her before or after her marriage to DeVeau, and many of them had believed the DeVeaux claim that she had murdered her husband. That was beginning to change, but she knew she would be slow to forgive and forget.

      A scream brought her attention back to her precarious position. It was the chilling sound of a man dying, but what alarmed her more was how near it was. The battle had drawn dangerously close to the tent. Gisele slowly stood up as the clash of swords continued at what sounded like only a few paces away. Hiding within the tent no longer felt safe. It began to feel very much like a trap.

      The dagger held tightly in her hand, she inched through the tent opening and then halted. Horror and fear held her rooted to the spot. Guy was in a fierce battle for his life with two men whose shields held the heraldic colors of the house of DeVeau. They had found her, and they were about to cut down one of the few members of her large family who had believed in her, just as they had cut down Guy’s friend Charles. Gisele shuddered as she quickly looked away from the amiable young knight’s body.

      “Get away!” bellowed Guy as he nimbly evaded a lethal thrust of a sword.

      Just as Gisele realized that if Guy knew she was there so did the DeVeaux, a third DeVeau man appeared and slowly approached her sword in hand. She held out her dagger and knew that the huge knight had every right to grin so arrogantly. She and her tiny weapon were no threat to him.

      “Drop the dagger, you murderous whore,” he said, his deep voice little more than a rough growl.

      “And make this injustice easier for you to commit? Non, I think not,” she replied.

      “Injustice? Non, this is justice. You killed your husband, cut off his manhood, and rammed it down his throat. You deserve all the DeVeaux wish to inflict upon you.”

      It suddenly occurred to Gisele that the manner of her husband’s mutilation promised that she would never find an ally amongst the men hunting her. The way the knight had spoken of it told her he found it of far more consequence than the murder itself. She found herself wondering if Sir Nigel would be equally appalled and withdraw his support, perhaps even join the DeVeaux, then forced herself to pay heed to something of far greater importance—staying alive.

      “I will not go back to the DeVeau lair,” she said, careful to keep just out of reach of the knight as she tried to get around him, to find a clear route of escape.

      “Oh, oui, you will. Alive or dead.”

      “Dead? I believe the DeVeau pack of dogs wish me alive so that they might show me more of their brutality.”

      “This chase has lasted for so long that I think they no longer care.”

      “Ah, but I care. I would prefer the wee lass alive,” drawled a thickly accented voice in English.

      Gisele’s eyes widened when she saw Sir Nigel standing behind the knight who confronted her, but she did not think she looked as surprised as the knight himself. She certainly did not share the DeVeau man’s obvious fear. She quickly stepped back as the knight whirled around to face Sir Nigel. He was much too slow to save himself. Although his death was far more merciful than the one he had planned to deliver her to, she still felt sickened as Nigel cut him down. Silently, she pointed to Guy, who was hard pressed to simply hold back the two men trying to kill him.

      Even though she was afraid to look and did not want to see any more death, especially not Guy’s or Nigel’s, she turned to watch the battle. Its outcome would decide her next step, and that could be a decision she had to make immediately. She also prayed, vehemently, that Sir Nigel and Guy would not pay too dearly for protecting her.

      When Nigel cut down his opponent Gisele felt relieved, almost cheered, for one brief moment. Then Guy’s opponent made a skilled thrust that Guy was too slow to deflect. She cried out along with Guy when the sword cut into his left shoulder. Only his quick shift to the right kept the blade from piercing his heart. Even as she moved to help her cousin, Nigel stopped the DeVeau man from delivering the death stroke, swiftly turning the man’s attention from taking a life to desperately trying to save his own. It was a short battle, and Sir Nigel quickly ended the man’s life. Gisele was just kneeling beside Guy when Sir Nigel wiped his sword on the dead man’s jupon, sheathed his weapon, and moved to help her.

      “Sorry, cousin,” muttered Guy, clenching his teeth in pain as Gisele struggled to open his bloodsoaked jupon.

      “For what?” she asked, fighting to ignore the blood and the pain she had to cause him.

      “My first attempt to protect you was a miserable one.”

      “Non, fool, it was most gallant.”

      “Charles is dead?”

      “I fear so.”

      “Curse the DeVeaux and all their progeny. Charles was a good man, the best of companions.”

      “I will see that his body is tended with care and honor,” Nigel said.

      “Thank you most kindly.” Guy looked at Nigel and smiled faintly. “Where did you come from?”

      “When I listened to ye speaking by the river I heard the name DeVeau. I took it upon myself to find out what I might about the family. Then in the heat of the battle, I saw ye and your friend turn and run this way. Then I spied the DeVeau men, and felt ye may need some help.”

      “And he needs more help now,” Gisele said. “All I need СКАЧАТЬ